The Barber, the Baker and the Butcher
by KreacherofHabit
Summary: Benjamin Barker used to know a friend and his son who were butchers. Judge Turpin sentenced the butcher to be hung, two years before he got Ben. When Sweeney Todd returns, a baker and a butcher may be just what he needs. T for blood/pies. Sweenett.
1. Memories and Dreams

**A/N: Hello Fanfiction! This is my first fic so enjoy. _When text is like this_ it's a memory like in most other fics, and this is just normal text. Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney, just the OBC recording and a DVD.**

Garrick twisted and thrashed on the cramped couch that was his bed. The tips of his toes dangled off the arm of the makeshift bed. After watching the same nightmare every night for sixteen years, he no longer shouted in his sleep. Still the occasional whimper escaped his lips. Inside his head images were rapidly flashing; His father Charles's arrest, his father's death and every misfortune that plagued him since then.

_Three policemen burst through the door of the butcher shop. Two of them grabbed Charles and the third wrestled the meat cleaver out of his burly hand. The third didn't see Garrick standing, shell shocked, behind him. The knife split through the air, only stopping when it gouged into Garrick's cheek. _

_The surprised officer threw the knife aside into the darkness, "Wot will we do about this one?" He called to the others. _

_Realizing what would happen, Garrick turned and ran. Into the filth of London he charged, racing through the mud covered streets. Looking back he saw no one behind him so he pulled into the crack of a side alleyway. "Why?" he muttered, "why my father?" Tears were beginning to chase each other down his cheeks. As soon as he said the words he realized why. Charles hadn't liked Judge Turpin's politics. The judge's mannerism in court was dishonest and greedy. Garrick remembered his father occasionally ranting his views to one of his friends like Mr. Barker or Mr. Barrie. They had been such good friends to his father, always calming him down after the discussion was over. In fact whenever they were talking after Garrick had gone to sleep, he could still hear their shouts of laughter. Treason was probably why his father was in the jailhouse, so easy to be accused of. And of course, they easiest way to be sentenced to death. Garrick shook with fear at the thought. The bitter London whipped around the crag of the ally where Garrick was hiding. The cold jammed itself into the gash on his cheek, stinging where it bit into him. Garrick suppressed a small whimper. After rummaging through a small side pocket in his vest Garrick managed to procure a hankie. Stuffing it against his burning cheek muffled some of the pain. Once his wound was somewhat better, Garrick's mind wandered back to his father. Would he be back at the shop? Or would he be… gone?_

Darkness. When Garrick opened his eyes that was all he saw. After several moments of suspiration his heart began to creep back to its normal speed. The darkness could only mean that it was too late for work. Rolling back over, Garrick drifted back into sleep's welcome arms. The nightmare continued to haunt him as though he hadn't woken.

_The scene had shifted from the London streets back to the butcher shop. Garrick reached out to the overturned table to right it. The knife was still there, his blood staining the blade. Slowly, as though it could attack him again, Garrick grabbed the handle of the cleaver and wiped it on his sweat-stained shirt. A knock on the door startled Garrick, he was relieved to see that it was Mr. Barker._

"_Garrick!" he exclaimed, "We were so worried they had you too." The friend entered the shop and embraced Garrick. Mr. Barker stared at Garrick's cheek, "What happened to you?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion._

_Garrick looked down at the floor. A few droplets of his blood were beginning to congeal on the floor. "They didn't see. I was… behind them." He managed to spit through his teeth. The memory still scared him, he didn't want to remember what had happened._

_Benjamin let go of Garrick for a moment. Without a word he began to look through his pockets. "Don't bother, I've already got one," Garrick muttered dragging his own blood socked handkerchief out of his pockets. The cut was starting to burn again so he pressed it against the side of his face._

_Mr. Barker slid the hankie back into his pocket. "I… um, don't know…" he trailed off unable to say what he wanted._

_Garrick could tell what Mr. Barker wanted to say, "My father's dead isn't he?" the words choked his throat. Tears were about to streak down his cheeks again._

"_Yes," Mr. Barker muttered, not meeting Garrick's eyes. The barber's voice was low and scratchy. For a moment Garrick wondered if he had been crying. Garrick's own throat was feeling like he'd been choking on something. Benjamin hugged the boy closer and finally getting his voice to sound normal added, "I can't leave you here alone. Would you come live with Lucy and me?"_

_Considering for a moment, Garrick answered, "Yes please. Thank you." True, it wasn't his home but it was the closest thing he had to one._

_Mr. Barker smiled, though it didn't spread to the rest of his face. "Excellent. I'll help you gather what you need." He let go of Garrick and started to walk up the steps to Garrick's room._

_After a moment Garrick followed slowly after Benjamin. Once the two reached his room Garrick muttered, "I have my own bed, we could bring it." Reaching for the small cot he rolled it up._

_Mr. Barker looked around the room. Spying a rucksack in the corner of the room he tossed it to the boy. Garrick caught it easily and began pulling clothes out of the single drawer that held his clothes. They all fit in the bag easily, with plenty of room to spare. One single thought entered Garrick's mind, "Mr. Barker, would you keep something for me? I'm not ready to have it yet."_

_He nodded with sympathy, "Sure, what is it?"_

_Garrick darted into the other room, returning slowly carrying a box. "My father's butchering knives, someday I'll be a butcher just like him." he looked down his voice suddenly choked again, "but I can't right now." _

_His friend reached out slowly, as though his hands were wading through all the memories that surrounded the box. His voice, once again rough muttered, "I understand. I'll keep these until you want to reclaim them."_

Garrick wretched his eyes open. It was too painful to see his old master. The Barkers had become his family after his father had… _died_. Garrick cringed, it was still too much to think of his father's senseless death at the hands of Judge Turpin. Oh how he loathed Judge Turpin, his name was like holding something revolting. Garrick snapped out of the past, _I have to get to work, _he groaned inside. Dock working always started so early and ended so late. Turning his hands over, Garrick studied the think weeds of calluses that grew on his hands. Sluggishly, he lifted himself from the couch that served as his bed.

Garrick had long outgrown the small cot he used to sleep on. After Master Barker had _left_ and Garrick's new family had been wretched apart he had no idea what would happen to him. Luckily, their landlady, Mrs. Lovett had gladly taken him in. Her bull of a husband hadn't been so kind though. Albert was some sort of a cross between an extremely bad tempered bull and a large pig. Not that he was all that nice before Garrick came, there was no doubt Mrs. Lovett's constant bruises were from him. The occasion memory still wafted thought his brain of hearing Mrs. Lovett's cries from upstairs in Mr. Barker's room. The memory was stained with Master Barker's insistence to Mrs. Lucy that they should help and with her response to not meddle with what happened between the two. He sighed, Mrs. Lucy had never really been that supportive of anything. One particular memory was dragged up to the surface of his mind.

"_Ben," she'd began, "We can't…not with Johanna so-"_

_Garrick had been curled up on his bed in the corner of the small room Mr. Barker lived in. He tried to sleep but couldn't so he was merely laying still, listening to the conversation._

_Master Barker cut his wife off, "Lucy you know Charles was a good friend of mine. Their house was owned by the Beatle, he would have evicted the poor lad. I couldn't just leave him there."_

That reminder always echoed in his mind. Lucy had kept up several more arguments before the two had finally stopped.

With a deft tug he pulled his boots on. Garrick felt like a corpse simply moving from one mindless task to another. Sliding into a small cloak Garrick headed into the pie shop that had became his home. Noticing a meat pie on the table, Garrick groaned. Naturally Mrs. Lovett had left him one for breakfast. Probably hadn't sold yesterday, judging by the layer of dust that coated the treat. Still, food was food and he didn't get enough of it. Garrick reached out and scooped it up. Biting into the slab of stone was horrible. The rock was devoured hungrily by the time Garrick had walked out the door.

Shuffling alone the frigid streets of London was normal enough for Garrick. As he was turning down Fleet Street he caught sight of his reflection in a puddle. Garrick shuddered and quickly turned away, _why? Why did I have to be branded like this?_ It wasn't the cowlick of obsidian-black hair that stuck out over his forehead. Nor was it his green eyes, just like his mother's had been or so his father had told him. But there, engraved on his cheek, was a faded pink scar. The jagged line drew itself from his cheekbone to a little before his chin. Clasping his hand onto the right side of his face, Garrick hurried away to the shipyard.


	2. An Old Friend

**A/N. 'Ello loves, here is chappie two! Now with 50% MORE Sweeney action! Yeah, I know he wasn't in the last chappie, but you needed the background story, right? Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney. If I did there would probably have been a Sweeney/Lovett make out scene. I would SO pay to see ****that****! Anyhow, now let's get on with the show!**

The days were long for Garrick. Nights went by in the blink of an eye. The hours of work were torturous on his hands and back. True, he had become strong enough to work for hours but the ten he was working were agony on his hands and back. As he approached the shipyard he was fine, at the midday break however, his hands were starting to burn. By the late evening, finally time to leave, the fire had spread until it engulfed all of him. Slowly and practically stumbling Garrick started back home. Footfalls sounded behind him accompanied by the sound of panting. Turning around Garrick saw the pudgy dock manager racing towards him. It was a good thing all he had to do was watch over the workers, there was no way he could lift more than a day's wages.

Garrick offered a rare greeting, he barely spoke at all anyways. "Even' sir."

The dock manager, Richard, grinned, "I 'ave some extra work fer ya'. Movin' some crates inta customs. Pay ya' for it."

Already overworked, Garrick groaned inside. Still he could use any spare pay he could get. "Sure, sir. I know the way." Slowly, he headed towards the decrepit shed that served as customs. By the time he was finished, night had devoured London. Not that anyone could tell, night was as dark as noon. As Garrick walked home to the pie shop he couldn't help thinking one thing. There had been a man, obviously not a sailor, on the 3rd ship. _What was that's ship's name? _Garrick thought for a minute_. Oh, yes the Bountiful. _The man had a somber, gloomy posture and countenance. Most of the people who exited the ships were excited and usually laughing with friends over some jest. The only person accompanying the man was a cheery, what looked like blonde-haired, sailor. The pair was certainly mismatched. Through his ponderings Garrick saw the familiar door of Mrs. Lovett's pie shop, or _meat pie emporium_ as she liked to call it. A veil of exhaustion covered Garrick's face, otherwise he might have noticed a light in the room above the shop in the place he used to call home. Instead he merely walked into the shop, looking for Mrs. Lovett. He didn't have to move far, she was making more of her god-awful pies.

The baker must have noticed his entrance because her head popped up and she started jabbering away. "Oh, Garrick there's someone who I want you to meet-"

_Dear Lord, _Garrick thought, _please don't let her be trying to set me up again. _The last time Mrs. Lovett had someone she wanted him to meet it didn't end well. Garrick interrupted her, "Mrs. Lovett, I'm not going to meet any more of your friends' daughters."

She started to laugh, "No, no, nothing like that. Come on he's upstairs." Mrs. Lovett grabbed his shoulder and dragged Garrick upstairs.

Garrick slowly followed her to the upper room, _he? _Inside the room was a figure, somewhat tall with messy black hair. "Don't tell me you managed to sell that room. No one 'll go near it."

Mrs. Lovett pulled open the door. "Well, 'n a way. Mista' T, someone 'ere ta see you." She pushed Garrick into the room just as the man turned. There were dark rings around his eyes as if he hadn't slept in years. His hair, all jet black except for a single stripe of white, was in a tangled disarray. "Garrick, this is Sweeney Todd."

Trying to be cordial, it might have made the man's brooding mannerism more conferrable, Garrick extended his hand. "Garrick Darter, sir."

"O' course," Mrs. Lovett said from behind him, "You might know 'im betta as Mr. Benjamin Barker."

Sweeney growled something that sounded like "Mrs. Lovett." To which she simply rolled her eyes and replied, "He might as well know."

"I thought you had a life sentence, though." Garrick said, truly puzzled.

Mr. Todd nodded, "I did. Luckily, I managed to escape that rat hole. Then Antony found me at sea."

Garrick started to walk out, "Well, it is getting late. I'd better go." Though Mr. Todd didn't seem to notice as he was staring intently at his razors. Mrs. Lovett ushered Garrick down the steps, which were even more treacherous in the dark. Once they were both in the shop Mrs. Lovett closed the door quickly and turned on Garrick like she was trapping him.

"Garrick, I need you ta do somefin' fer me." She said quietly, anxiety shaking her voice.

The man nodded. He owed her so much. "Sure, Mrs. Lovett, anything." However there was no way he could have predicted what she would say.

Mrs. Lovett looked down and almost blushed. "I, um, didn't tell mista T about…well… Lucy."

"Come now Mrs. Lovett, Mister Todd may be a little somber but I think he's noticed she's not here." Garrick said trying to interject some humor to Mrs. Lovett's strange statement.

The baker rolled her eyes, "I mean I jus' told 'im she took the arsenic. Not anyfing else."

His eyes must have been bugging out of his head, because that's what Garrick felt like. "He…doesn't know… she's… out there?" Mrs. Lovett nodded. "I can't lie to him. Not now that he's finally back."

"Oh, no, dearie. You won' 'ave to lie. Just don't mention Lucy 'round 'im, think 'bout it. Isn't it better that way? 'E can rememba her all sweet and caring, not as some street filth." Garrick stared at Mrs. Lovett and crossed his arms. He knew she had the same feelings of Lucy that he did. Why couldn't the woman wait? She barely lasted a month without Mr. Barker.

Walking over to the counter where Mrs. Lovett had left a slightly drained bottle of gin Garrick poured himself a glass. "Well, this is somewhat unlike you. Why the sudden interest in Mr. _Todd,_" Garrick couldn't get used to saying that, it was like having gristle in his mouth. "He would want to know what happened to her." Mrs. Lovett's posture changed, she moved from the door and sat down in one of the rickety chairs. Was she, _blushing_? She started to mutter something but Garrick quickly cut her off. "You don't fancy 'im, do you?"

The baker looked up, it looked like she was chewing her lip. Nodding she answered, "All my life. Now tha' he's back, if he thinks she's gone, things might…"

Swirling the gin in his glass before taking a gulp, Garrick rolled his eyes. "All right, Mrs. Lovett. I suppose I do owe you, keepin' me all these years."

Starting to walk to her room, Mrs. Lovett grinned. "Thank you Garrick." Draining the remaining contents of his cup, Garrick yawned as he walked to his bed.

**A/N. Hope I got Mrs. Lovett's accent right. Its hard, I'm sitting here at my computer talking to myself trying to sound like her then write what it sounds like, URG! Chappie three might take a week or so, depends on homework. On that note, I apologize for any mistakes. I'm young and still have MANY grammar/spelling/writing lessons to listen to, plus I'm beta-ing this myself. I'd love to hear from you though, so clicky the button.**


	3. A Pledge of Allegiance

**A/N. So welcome to chapter three! It's short but I wanted to update before I go to camp for a month and a half. So, this is it for a while.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sweeney (do people on FANfiction ever own what they write?)**

Garrick twitched in his sleep, well his half sleep. He wasn't awake but his eyes refused to open so he merely lay on his bed. An impossible dream was worming its way into his consciousness. It wasn't the usual one, his father hadn't been in it at all. Finally opening his eyes, Garrick realized it was light outside. Panic jumped through his nerves, he'd overslept! After he finished buttoning his shirt and yanking on his boots Garrick realized that today was a half day. There weren't any shipments in the morning, just two in the night. "Ah, well," he muttered, extending his arms out in a stretch. Suddenly there was a thump from the pie shop and Garrick shuffled drowsily through the door to investigate the matter. "Mrs. Lovett what was-" he started to say before she interrupted him.

"Oh, Garrick would you take that up to Mista T?" she asked inclining her head towards a tray of breakfast.

Garrick reached for the tray, careful not to upset its contents. "Mr. T? So it's true…" he whispered, he could have sworn it was a dream. Gently he pushed the door open, leaving Mrs. Lovett scurrying away behind him. He could hear the hustle and bustle of London behind him as he climbed the stairs. Sweeney Todd stood immobile in his shop, staring out the window into the smog. Garrick set the tray down on a desk sitting in the coroner of the room. "Mr. Todd," Sweeney didn't turn his head in inch. Garrick continued, he was used to having people ignore him. "Missus Lovett sent you some breakfast." Nothing. Not a look at the food, a nod or even a grunt escaped from Sweeney's statue composure. That stung Garrick like a punch to the gut, Mr. Barker had always responded to anything anyone said. _Well he's not Benjamin Barker anymore you stupid git,_ Garrick reminded himself. Not only had his name changed, the man inside it had too. Running away to lick his wounds, Garrick took one look at the barber and the questionable bread on the plate and left.

As Garrick closed the shop door he swore he heard the metallic clang of a razor opening and a voice muttering, "There must be a way to the judge…"

Eyes glazed over, hands stumbling slightly and eyebrows pulled down. That was the only posture Garrick's co-workers had ever seen him in. Garrick's mind was almost never in his work, it was always floating to impossible worlds. During that nights' work he was pondering Sweeney's words. Whatever he was going to do, Garrick wanted to be part of it. Sweeney wasn't the only one who the judge had scorned though Garrick had a feeling that he would be one of the last.

Whatever Sweeney had planned, Garrick would help him.

The next day was Thursday and Garrick only had a ship in the dark of the morning and three near midnight. When he entered the pie shop Mrs. Lovett was pounding away as usual, though her best hat lay on the table next to her. "Mrs. Lovett wha-"

She cut him off, as usual. "Oh, Garrick we's jus' goin' ta St, Dustan's. Yer welcome ta come, if ya can."

Garrick was going to refuse, until he remembered his promise to himself. _We_ meant that Mr. Todd would be there. "Sure, Mrs. Lovett."

Though Garrick had no idea why they were there, he followed as Mrs. Lovett practically dragged Sweeny to St. Dunstan's. She was chattering off about whatever seemed to pop into her head, "No doubt 'fings 'ave chang'd since ya' were 'ere last."

Garrick froze, how dare she mention that fateful day to Mr. Todd. Sweeney must have been thinking the same thing (a miracle that he was actually listening) because he stopped and turned to glare at Mrs. Lovett. "Don't ever say anything about my Lucy."

She looked indifferent to the fact that they had stopped. "Come on Mista' T. He's here every week. Eye-talin an' all the rage, 'e is."

**A/N I wrote this fanfic of a fanfic where Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett had a ninja-like battle until I realized how unrealistic that was. I would have posted it but my computer ate it…**


	4. The ShaveOff

**A/N I'm baaaaaaaack! This summer has given me loads of time to think, and many stories have popped up. Mainly a Sweeney Todd/Into the Woods crossover, or perhaps an Addams Family Fanfiction…(I saw the Addams Family on Broadway this summer too. It was AMAZING! The critics have no idea what they're saying.)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sweeney Todd.**

The trio wove their way through the crowded square. Mrs. Lovett was still talking, she never really did stop, and Mr. Todd was studiously ignoring her. Finally they reached the painted cart. In gaudy blue paint was written "Banish Baldness with Pirelli's Miracle Elixir." Garrick had heard of Pirelli, apparently he was some famous barber. Garrick wouldn't know as he couldn't afford to see a barber. Absentmindedly he ran a hand over his chin. It was bristly from the many hairs. Garrick's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp bang that silenced most of the crowd.

"Ladies an' gentl'men may I 'ave yer attention puh-lease!" Belted a small boy, Garrick placed him at thirteen or fourteen, as he pounded a drum saddled at his hip. "Do you wake every mornin' in shame an' despair to discover your pilla' is covered in hair? Wot ought not to be there. Well, ladies an' gentl'men from now on ya' can wak'n with ease. You need neva' aga'n 'ave a worry or care, I 'ill show ya' a miracle marvelous rare."

Garrick sighed, this boy was speaking worse than Mrs. Lovett. He tried to tune out the squeaking but still picked up a bit. Garrick let his eyes wander around the people crowded like sheep around the sight. He noticed some dockworkers with their wives, what looked like a peddler and Beetle Bamford. That would explain the tension Garrick could see in Mister Todd beside him (Garrick knew better than to think it was nerves).

"See that chap, with 'air like Shelly's, you can tell 'e's used Pirelli's!" The boy cried pointing at Garrick. Sweeney didn't waste the moment where the crowd was looking near him.

Suddenly Sweeney opened his mouth, as if to speak, and said loudly to Mrs. Lovett, "Pardon me ma'am, what's that awful stench?"

Mrs. Lovett grinned for a second before she answered, "Are we standing near an open trench?" Even louder than Sweeney had. Garrick noticed one gentleman eye his bottle suspiciously and nearly laughed.

"Smells like piss," Sweeney said, nudging Mrs. Lovett. Garrick shifted in case Mrs. Lovett fainted from coming in contact with Mister Todd.

But Garrick didn't have to worry, Mrs. Lovett took the bottle from Sweeney and shouted, "Smells like, ew!"

The boy was trying to keep the crowd's waning attention, and failing miserably, "Let Pirelli's activate your roots sir."

Garrick seized his chance and said, "Keep it off your boots sir, eats right through," nodding to his boots, glad for once that they had holes.

The boy tried one more attempt to convert the crowd, "Ladies seem to love it!"

"Flies do too!" Mrs. Lovett retorted back.

That did it. They crowd rebelled against the boy shouting, "Where is this Pirelli?" That surprised Garrick; he had guessed the boy could have been Pirelli. "Go and get our money!"

The boy shrank against the wagon, "Talk to him!" He cried, throwing aside a curtain to reveal Pirelli; a figure dressed from head to toe in a gaudy blue suit.

"I am Adolfo Pirelli, da king of da barbers, da barber of kings. Say bon journo good day. I blow you a kiss," he did, "And I, the so famous Pirelli, I wish-a to know-a who has-a da nerve to say my elixir is piss! Who says this?" He ended by pouting his lips out. Silence the air for a second before a voice rang out.

"I do," Came from Garrick's side, from Sweeney. Slowly the crowd parted, partly due to Mister Todd edging his way closer, and turned to see who was challenging the showy Italian. "I am Mister Sweeney Todd. And I have opened a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir and I say to you know it is nothing but an errant fraud concocted from piss and ink." From where Garrick was standing it looked like Pirelli was fuming. "And furthermore," Sweeney continued as Pirelli turned a darker shade of red, "I have serviced no kings, yet I'd wager I could shave a check with ten times more dexterity than any street mountebank." Sweeney turned to the crowd and held aloft his razors, "You see these razors? I lay them against five pounds, you are no match for me."

Pirelli leaned down to see the razors. He grinned to the crowd and declared, "You see this foolish man? Watch and see how he will regret his folly!" He twirled his cape into the curtain for emphasis.

"Will Beatle Bamford be the judge?" Sweeney said, barely loud enough to be heard.

The Beatle grinned, showing off his impressive collection of rotted teeth, "Glad, as always, to serve my friends and neighbors." He faced the awed crowd and while Sweeney and Pirelli prepared, announced that, "The fastest, smoothest shave is the winner!" At the sound of a whistle both men started.

Sweeney gently ran his razor over the strop, slowly and deliberately. While Pirelli plowed his razor through the strop, Garrick half expected the leather to snap. The Italian was singing agitatedly about his many accomplishments in a voice that couldn't possibly be natural for a man.

While he hit a note that Garrick knew he could make even if he was kicked, Sweeney reached out and quickly shaved the man to perfection. Mister Todd stepped aside so the Beatle could inspect his work. "The winner is Todd!" The Beetle cried.

Garrick watched as the crowd dissipated some pausing to ask Sweeney if he was a barber. Mrs. Lovett saw the opportunity for free solicitation and took it, " 'e sure does. Sweeney Todd's tonsorial parl'r above my meat pie empor'um on Fleet Street." Garrick rolled his eyes; it was just like Mrs. Lovett to try to make everything grand.

Without a word to the man, Sweeney walked right past them. Garrick couldn't see who he was speaking to but he heard Sweeney's deep voice, "Thank you sir. You are a paragon of integrity."

A slimy voice replied, "Well, I do my best for my friends and neighbors." Garrick easily placed the voice as Beatle Bamford's. The next part was too low for Garrick to hear and the two gentlemen loudly arguing behind him weren't helping. All he caught was, "…see me there before the week is out."


	5. Unexpected Visitors

**A/N I don't own Sweeney Todd, that's why it's called FAN-fiction.**

Garrick didn't see much of Sweeney or Mrs. Lovett during the following week. He was up before them and asleep from the moment he walked into the pie shop at night. But on Tuesday he was sick as a dog, and his best attempts at escape had been thwarted by Mrs. Lovett's incessant nagging that he should rest. So Garrick did, and what ensued should have been a fever dream.

But it wasn't.

Garrick had woken up with a burning in his throat. He swung himself out of bed to get a mug of water, and stepped on a boy. _Bloody Hell_, he thought, _Another urchin snuck in. Mrs. Lovett needs to learn to lock her door_. Garrick stooped down to pick up the boy so he could throw him out and noticed that the boy was holding a bottle of gin. _Great, and he steals_, Garrick thought and shook the bottle, finding it nearly empty, _And he drinks like a fish_. Garrick carried him out into the storefront and found Mrs. Lovett just about to leave.

"Mrs. Lovett," Garrick called, "Hold the door, would you?"

Mrs. Lovett turned around and gasped, "Garrick wot in bloody 'ell are you doin'?"

Garrick nodded to the boy in his arms, "'Nother one snuck in."

"Toby is a guest," Mrs. Lovett scolded and gestured to put the boy down, ""E's that boy that the eye-talian was abusin'."

"Why is 'e here?" Asked Garrick, who put Toby down into one of the chairs.

Mrs. Lovett took his hand and led him up the stairs to the barber shop, "Mista T is talkin' to the eye-talian, but there's been quite a ruckus and I'm goin' up ta see what's wrong."

Mrs. Lovett pushed open the door and Garrick looked around, "Where's the Italian?" He whispered to Mrs. Lovett.

But she hadn't heard him, all her attention was focused on Mr. Todd. "That boy drinks like a sailor. Mista T? Where's Pirelli?"

Sweeney gave a slight twitch of his head towards the trunk that was in the corner of the room. There was a hand sticking out of it.

Garrick bit down on his teeth, and Mrs. Lovett gasped, "Mista T!" Mrs. Lovett and Garrick rushed over to the chest. Mrs. Lovett gave Garrick a "You open it" nudge. Garrick lifted up the lid, and the sight brought back painful memories. The corpse looked like a piece of butchered meat, bloody and with the lines of muscles standing out. It reminded him of his father's shop. Mrs. Lovett's voice brought Garrick back to reality.

Her hand shot into the chest, and the Italian's. "Waste not, want not," She muttered and pulled out the man's coin purse.

Garrick went to the window, the smell of blood smelled like the butcher's shop, and it made him feel homesick. Mrs. Lovett and Mister Todd were chatting in the background, at least Mrs. Lovett was, Sweeney just nodded or scowled occasionally. Garrick watched the Londoners scurry about like ants, two popped out of the crowed. The street parted like the Red Sea for them, and Garrick realized that they were headed for the shop. "Mister Todd, you 'ave customers,' Said Garrick.

Sweeney rushed to the window and Mrs. Lovett hurriedly shoved the hand back into the trunk.

"It's the Judge," hissed Sweeney. He hurriedly began to rush across the room, wiping every drop of Italian blood from it. His eyes darted from Mrs. Lovett to Garrick and back like flushed game, "Get out. Get out!" He growled.

"Mr. Todd," Garrick said, "Your shirt?"

Sweeney looked frantically down at his shirt, "The blood," he whispered. Garrick tossed Sweeney his jacket and headed out with Mrs. Lovett.

They passed the the Judge on the stairs though the Beadle did not venture up the stairs.

"M'Lord," Muttered Mrs. Lovett and Garrick in unison, though the Judge didn't hear.

Garrick turned to enter the pie shop but Mrs. Lovett grabbed his shoulder, "Garrick, wait 'ere, Mista Todd will 'ave a fit if anyone else comes in fer a shave."

"Alright ma'am," Garrick said, taking his post by sitting on the first step. Mrs. Lovett disappeared into the pie shop. Garrick took several moments on watch, tapping his feet to pass the time. The cold, foul London air scratched down Garrick's throat and he curled over in a coughing fit. Garrick stood up and walked in the pie shop for some gin.

Mrs. Lovett looked surprised to see him, "Garrick, Mista T done already?"

Garrick rubbed his throat "No, I need something to drink," he said hoarsely.

Mrs. Lovett poured him what remained of Toby's gin. Garrick muttered a thanks and turned toward the door. A man walked by it, intent on going to the barber shop. Garrick threw open the door, "Sir! You can't go up there."

The man, no more than a stretched boy, turned but tried to walk past Garrick, "You don't understand, friend. I'm a friend of Mister Todd, he'll know me, Anthony Hope."

Garrick put his hand out to keep the man from going out the steps. "Mister Todd is not seeing anyone. You'll 'ave to come again later."

Anthony pushed past Garrick, "He'll understand, he'll see me." Anthony called as he climbed the steps. Garrick tried to grab him in a tackle, but the sailor was a quicker man and he threw open the door, shouting "Mister Todd! Mister Todd!"


End file.
